


revenant

by chaosy



Series: tumblr fics [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Feels, Character Study, Kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2204061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosy/pseuds/chaosy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills isn't a beacon anymore. It's an inferno.</p>
            </blockquote>





	revenant

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked for platonic isaac/braeden which i completely failed at. i'm sorry, buddy!  
> tumblr: martinisms.tumblr.com

He comes back and Allison is still dead.

Scott hugs him tightly at the airport and Isaac breathes him in. He doesn’t relax at the feel of his Alpha because in his experience, guys who’ve had authority over him haven’t been all that great.

Lydia gives him a cracked, worn smile. Kira is sunnier, gives him a hug even though they really weren’t friends.

Stiles says, “You’re still a douchebag.” It’s relieving.

Chris didn’t treat him like his son when he showed him around France. They visited Argent property and Chris spoke quietly about Allison, how she’d learned the language quickly and had started firing toy arrows at the age of six. 

Soon, though, it got too painful. They wandered from Paris to Bordeaux to Nice. Isaac remembers dragging Chris up the stairs when he was flat out drunk, crying for his daughter, his wife.

He didn’t hit him when he was drunk. His dad was always worse when he’d been drinking, the alcohol catching fire in his veins and burning so bright that Isaac had always been a casualty of those particular infernos. Chris had just cried.

"Lot of shit’s been happening," he says, the day after Isaac comes back. They drink coffee even though the caffeine does nothing for Isaac.

"Scott told me about the assassins. And Kate," he replies. Chris sighs.

He looks older, greyer.

Isaac doesn’t look at him and think of a father. Derek had been some kind of replacement for that, once, and that had turned out like shit. He looks at Chris and he sees a friend and that’s all he needs right now.

He’s not sure why he goes back to the loft. His eyes snap to the invisible shadow on the floor where Boyd lay dead. He wonders if Erica would’ve liked the place. If she would’ve forced Derek to get some art or some decent furniture or something.

"Can I help you?"

A woman, a girl,  _the_ girl who saved his life on a jet black motorbike is looking at him with raised eyebrows. She’s wearing a henley that’s too big for her and shorts.

"You," Isaac says, at the same time that she replies with, "You."

She smiles at him. “I’m Braeden. You’re Isaac, right? The boy who couldn’t hold on.”

God, Isaac thinks. The sentence is an incredibly apt description and Braeden doesn’t know him at all.

He sniffs, and the scent slams into him so fast it makes him stumble. He’s gotten better at ignoring smells now but if he focuses then  _Jesus_. The entire room reeks of sex, gunpowder, Derek’s weird laundry detergent and more sex.

"You’re Derek’s—" He doesn’t finish his sentence.

Braeden shrugs. “Wouldn’t say I’m  _Derek’s_ , per say.”

"You boss me around too much for you to be  _mine_.”

Derek steps downstairs and he looks lighter. The heaviness is gone from his shoulders, his eyes are gentler and kinder. Isaac stares at him.

Thankfully, there are no hugs. Derek touches his shoulder briefly and makes him some tea. Braeden leans into his space for a moment, kisses his cheek before patting Isaac on the arm and heading through the loft to change.

“ _You_  have a girlfriend,” Isaac says, staring at him.

Derek laughs, and it’s an odd sound, like his voice is dusty from being quiet for so long. “Amazing, isn’t it?” he says, dryly, sliding Isaac’s mug over to him.

And Jesus, the man has mugs now. And  _tea_. A  _selection_ of tea that Isaac can choose from like English Breakfast and Earl Grey and mother fucking  _chamomile_.

"You’re human," is what he says next, because he is. Derek’s expression gets sadder.

"I’m human." And they leave it at that.

He’s staying with Scott but it comes about that the entire pack, including a couple of new kids he doesn’t know or doesn’t care to know, ends up at Derek and Braeden’s, sprawled across the couch or the bed. Stiles takes the reins, talks about werewolf lore and some new shit he’s learned about some plant.

People shut up and  _listen_. It’s unnerving. Isaac comes from a world where no one listens to Stiles except Scott.

Allison’s presence is the stillness in the air, an empty seat at Scott’s side. She’s the circles under Lydia’s eyes and the tightness around Scott’s mouth. He sees Stiles’s hands fold and unfold like paper birds and he knows, he knows he thinks about the Oni.

Allison’s soft, shocked gasp as the sword entered her stomach echoes around the room, will echo around the world until they all fall down dead.

"Are you staying?" Braeden asks him. He likes her, can talk to her better than the others. They’re both outsiders even though Scott will welcome him back with open arms if he wants.

Isaac shakes his head after a while. “I can’t,” he says.

Braeden doesn’t push it. She writes down a number and an address, some place in Nevada. “Go there when you’re in trouble. Tell them I sent you. If you need a place to stay, or heal up, there you go.”

They’re quiet for a while. Isaac murmurs, “Thank you.” He asks her after a moment if it hurt.

He has to know, for Allison. He  _has to_.

"I didn’t die," Braeden tells him gently. "I got real close, but I got lucky. There was a lot of pain but it all goes numb. You feel like it’s relief."

Isaac doesn’t say anything. Allison said  _it doesn’t hurt_. 

The Allison-shaped hole won’t grow bigger or smaller. It just stays there, full of what was and what could have been.

The others talk for a long time about this or that, about who’s dying, who’s dead, who might die. Derek brings out bowls of macaroni and cheese for everyone. When Stiles’s head is turned, Isaac fills his bowl with pepper.

"You’re still a douchebag," Stiles says, once he’s stopped sneezing.

Isaac shrugs and tells him congratulations on finding a girl with low enough standards to date him. There’s a burst of laughter like a warm fire, a spark catching alight.

Allison is still gone but the pack remains. Isaac leaves for god-knows-where knowing that the Earth under his feet won’t crumble away when he takes the next step.


End file.
